Pillowtalk
by spiderfire
Summary: Steve said softly, "Bucky?" / "Mmm?" Bucky replied. / "What was it like?"


Bucky rested his head on Steve's shoulder and pressed his body against Steve's side, skin to skin along his entire length. Steve's arm was wrapped around him, holding him close. Neither of their bodies were soft but it was warm and comforting and he felt something relax deep inside in a place that he had not realized was tense or even could be tense. He let his breath fall into time with Steve, a slow and deep rhythm like the gentle swell of waves on the shore at sunset, as he idly played with the yellow fuzz on Steve's chest.

He had the metal arm tucked behind his body. Steve had never said anything about the arm, had never suggested that he'd rather not be touched by it, but it was easier when it was out of the picture. For a few minutes, Bucky could forget the passage of time and they could be what they once had been.

Their skin was still damp and sweaty, the mingled residual of their shared exertions, and Bucky was just starting to get chilled. There had been a sheet on the bed, but it was gone now, kicked to the floor. Bucky was considering sitting up and retrieving it when Steve said softly, "Bucky?"

"Mmm?"

"What was it like?"

Bucky froze, his fingers coming to a stop on Steve's chest. One after another, images flashed through his head:  
…looking into Pierce's face, begging for answers  
…the sheer power of tearing a car apart with a single hand.  
…the feeling of helplessness as they forced him back into the chair  
…in the van with his men after a mission, watching them pass around a flask  
…the flush of pleasure when a shot flew true  
…opening his eyes, over and over again, to a room full of strangers  
…eating up the quiet lies they had told him, to win his compliance  
…telling a joke in Russian and having his spotter laugh  
…being in the lab, surrounded by guns not quite aimed at him  
…people talking about him like he was not even there  
…standing before the mirror in the bathroom, shaving, feeling like the eyes that looked back at him belonged to someone else

What was it like?

Steve reached across his own body to tuck a strand of hair behind Bucky's ear and he started to say, "You don't…" but Bucky interrupted him. He knew he did not have to answer, but he wanted to. He wanted Steve to know. "Lonely," is what he said.

"Lonely?" Steve repeated, surprised.

"Yeah. Lonely." Bucky's finger's started moving on Steve's chest again. "Every time they woke me up," he said, "I was surrounded by strange faces. Do you know what it is like, being surrounded by strangers all of the time?"

Steve shook his head, rubbing his chin through Bucky's hair. "I imagine not," he said softly.

"Some of my missions were solo, but when I had a team, they always gave me the best men. Crack shots. Smart. Strong. Quick. They knew each other, but I never knew them. I think they were different from one mission to the next, but there may have been some holdovers. I'm not sure."

Steve's arm tightened around Bucky and Bucky looked up at him. "You remember that time in Austria, with the Commandoes?"

"I remember several times in Austria with the Commandoes. Freezing our asses off."

Bucky chuckled, "Yeah, I suppose there was more than one." He settled his head back on Steve's shoulder. "I was thinking of … there was a night. After we had hit one of the HYDRA factories. We had 20 miles to cover and 30 hours before our extraction would be in place."

"Are you talking about the time we camped in that cave?"

Bucky frowned. "Cave? Yeah, I guess. I remember sitting around the fire. We were so tired, no one said anything. We just passed a bottle around. We were together. Happy to be alive." In stark contrast, he suddenly remembered the uncomfortable stiffness of his STRIKE team. "I don't think I knew what I had until I didn't have it anymore. And then, I didn't remember I had had it, I just knew something was missing."

Steve put his hand on top of Bucky's and gave it a gentle squeeze.

Bucky was quiet for a few minutes before he continued. "A few faces, I'd work out. My handlers - Zola, Lukin, Pierce - they were the constants from one mission to the next. They were the only familiar face in a sea of unknowns."

Steve's hand tightened around Bucky's again. "They used that connection?"

Bucky nodded. "Of course." His voice was barely above a whisper. "You wake up in an unfamiliar place, in a room full of strangers, most of them armed. You are not in a proper bed, but on a hospital gurney with banks of instruments beeping and flashing, or in the … never mind. You can't remember how you got there but you remember pain, you remember it hurt. Everything about cryo hurt. In that situation, who do you trust?" Bucky was whispering, pleading with Steve to understand.

Steve whispered back, his voice choked. "The familiar face."

"Peirce was the best at it. Now that I am starting to understand how the pieces fit together, I see it now. He had me eating out of his hand."

"Pierce was a bastard."

After a pause, Bucky said, "He looked a bit like you, you know that?"

"Really?"

Bucky nodded, rubbing his face against Steve's shoulder. "When he was younger."

Steve had gone very still.

"Sometimes, I wonder if this is a dream. If I am going to wake up with nothing but my wits and reflexes, surrounded by guns and steel and strangers.

"Oh, Buck."

Bucky sat up and crawled to the foot of the bed to retrieve the sheet. He settled on Steve's other side, pushing his arm under Steve and pulling him up onto his shoulder. Steve rolled onto his side and snuggled against him.

"I'm here, now," Bucky said. "That's all that matters."

Steve hugged Bucky. "That's all that matters," he agreed.


End file.
